


on the rejection of suitors

by strikethesun



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Gender Roles, John Jacob Niles, Poetry, School Assignment, i wasn't sure if i should tag this as original work or not?, not technically my characters but, this author really hates men, this is based on a fairly obscure vocal piece so i think i'll be ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23042047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strikethesun/pseuds/strikethesun
Summary: a poetic response to "my lover is a farmer lad" by john jacob niles
Kudos: 5





	on the rejection of suitors

I wake up to the smell of

fresh manure

unwashed overalls

dew on the grass that brushes up

against the window

and I love it.

There are faint memories of another life.

They come to me when I sit at the piano

or when I run my hands through 

silk

lace

satin dresses that still hang, waiting for days that will not come.

At the bottom of our closet is a pair of high heels

that once came in a package tied with a bow

and are now tucked up against work boots that dwarf them

but only at first glance.

The same glance

my mother’s glance

my father’s glance

would see my small, white hands

once prized, but only when they glided over keys

or sat complacent in creamy gloves

now lovingly worshipped 

surrounded

embraced 

by calloused, tanned ones

made stronger with every touch

instead of being bound by a ring

to sit folded in my lap

and only leave this nest to play 

or sew

or cradle a babe

or start dinner.

He is already hours into his work when I wake up.

He never expects me to help, but he also never

assumes that I couldn’t.

Yes, I sew and play and start dinner 

but I also read and write

and this is one of the many things I do

that he cannot

and he respects my magic.

I sell the stories from time to time

and at the piano, too

I am crafting stories

I am crafting our story, and I plan on selling it, too

I sing our story to him at night

before he goes in for an early sleep

He follows the rhythms of the sun

while I keep a light on all night

trying to make our story last much longer.


End file.
